


Turning Me To Sin

by JackiIDK912



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) Fusion, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, One of My Favorites, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Song Lyrics, Song: Hellfire (Disney), full offense meant towards christianity, gratuitous use of the word 'sin', no offense meant towards the Romani people
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 22:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29303226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackiIDK912/pseuds/JackiIDK912
Summary: “Beata Maria, you know I’msomuch purer than the common, vulgar,weak, licentiouscrowd.” The anger that was overtaking the holy man was causing him to clench his fingers into fists rather than splayed in their praying position.Minister Madej slammed his fists onto the kneeler and suddenly stood to his feet, head still bowed to the portrait of Mary. “Then tell me, Mariawhy I see him dancing there; why his smoldering eyes still scorch my soul!” He now looked into her omniscient gaze, Mother Mary’s once kind eyes seeming to become judgmental for his sinful thoughts.+++Or: The Hunchback of Notre Dame AU no one asked for but I wrote anyway as a way to channel my hatred for the religion I was/am forced to endure+PLEASE READ THE NOTES AT THE BEGINNING OF THIS FIC FOR A FEW DISCLAIMERS+
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Turning Me To Sin

**Author's Note:**

> +PLEASE READ!!+  
> Disclaimer 1: As I stayed faithful to the lyrics from the song that inspired this fic, the slur "gypsy" is used a few times as it is used in the original song. However, I only used it when it was used in the song. I mean this wholeheartedly when I say that I am truly sorry people (especially english speakers) are so ignorant to this slur. So to counteract that, I'm going to link to an article that I read while trying to educate myself on [why the slur is so harmful](https://now.org/blog/the-g-word-isnt-for-you-how-gypsy-erases-romani-women/)
> 
> Disclaimer 2: Having said that, I am in no way, shape, or form changing Ryan's ethnicity. The Romani are their own people and from what I have read, he is not one of them. As I said above, I only used that slur because it was what the lyrics for the song are. I think this goes without saying, but Shane's character (Minister Frollo) is a glaring example of what NOT to do and his words and actions are based on the Disney film itself. I personally apologize to Romani women for the negative connotations you are portrayed as in media. As I mentioned in the summary and tags, I wrote this because I despise Christianity/Catholicism and HOND is a film that paints Christian zealots in a villainous light and it became my outlet for my hate. 
> 
> Disclaimer 3: I have not seen HOND all the way through and only watched the scenes I wrote in this fic. You'll also probably notice that Quasimodo is missing from this story; that's because I felt if his character was added this fic would be too long and would just upset the people who have watched the film because of how incorrect it would be from the original. Once again, I only wrote this fic because I wanted to express my hatred for the religion I was brainwashed by while simultaneously writing my favorite type of villain (and using the best villain song Disney has ever produced)
> 
> TL;DR: My deepest apologies to the Romani people for the usage of the "g" slur and the negative connotations in this fic that I wrote because I was inspired by the song "Hellfire" and using it as an excuse to indulge in my love for seeing Christianity as evil and my tendency to use religious symbolism 
> 
> Latin phrases will be translated in end notes
> 
> [My favorite version of this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADTA2rU-l-8)

The coming of a new day over the city of Paris brought forth a day of celebration and jovility. The Festival of Fools was upon the metropolis, the citizens buzzing with anticipation and glee in the streets. It was all the peasants would discuss for weeks leading up to the event, what kind of performances there would be and who would be crowned “King of the Fools” this year. 

To put it simply, it was a frivolous excuse to indulge in sin and turn away from The Almighty. Just the thought of such a sacrilege made a surge of disgust pulse in the judge’s chest. Though, he supposed, no one could be as pious as he. But those sinful rats could at least try. 

“Minister Madej, the festivities begin soon. We should leave if you wish to make it on time,” Phoebus, the newly appointed Captain of the Guard, informed. He had good potential, he was strong and honorable (not nearly to a degree that Minister Madej was, but he was to an acceptable amount). 

The devout man huffed and slammed shut the bible that he was pouring over. “Very well,” he sighed before standing up from behind his desk. “Let us go and witness crowds of lowly humans partake in the very activities that offend their glorious Father as they stray farther and farther from His holy light.” 

“Uh, sir-” 

“That’s _Minister_ to you, boy! I earned this title for my immense piety and you shall _not_ soon forget that, lest you wish me to remove that new rank I so graciously granted your wretched soul!” His reprimand echoed off the stone walls of the cathedral. The young guard became meek at the roaring of the minister’s voice and the long, bony finger firmly pointed in his face. Phoebus had to tilt his head back to meet the fiery gaze of his master, his towering 6’4 frame terrifyingly imposing with his added anger. 

“R-Right, yes. My apologies, Minister Madej,” the soldier rushed, his voice shaking. 

Satisfied with the sincerity, the Minister of Justice sneered and turned on his heel to continue walking the way to his carriage. _Sinners._ He heard what he thought to be a sigh or relief behind him.

“Minister?” Phoebus called, his steps rapidly approaching to catch up to the judge. 

“Yes, boy?” 

“If you hate the festival so much, why are you attending?” The guard had a look of true confusion on his features. 

The question made the holy man scoff in annoyance. Did he have to explain everything obvious to this child? “Someone has to pray for forgiveness for the sins committed by those vulgar imbeciles, and God knows they won’t do it themselves.” 

The pair walked out of the consecrated stone arches and into the blinding rays of the midday’s sun. The minister held his black robes in either hand as he descended the grey steps so as to not trip over them. Phoebus reached the carriage first, pulling the door open and offering his hand to assist Minister Madej inside. He regarded the hand for a moment before sneering and stepping into the cabin by himself. Like a righteous man such as himself would allow himself to be touched by such a lowly sin-laced hand.

+++

When they arrived at the town square the festival was already in full-swing. Parisians dabbling in debauchery, rowdily cheering and blissfully ignorant to the violation they were causing the Good Lord. They all really should be thankful that Minister Madej was there to pray for them. If he neglected such charitable duties, The Almighty surely would rain down upon them with hellfire to purge the world once again like He did with the Great Flood.

With a flourish of his uniform, he settled down onto the high-back chair that was set up under a tent. It was positioned right in front of where there was a stage erected in the center of town. The judge had no time to take in the events around him before he was accosted by some acrid jester that was raving on about the next performance that was about to begin. 

Keeping his higher moral standing in mind, Minister Madej simply brushed off the confetti the wretched fool left on his robe’s sleeve with a look of contempt on his face. Thankfully, the man moved on down to the cobblestone street soon after. 

“Come one! Come all! See the _finest_ man in France! Make an entrance to entrance! Dance, al Ryan Bergara!” The masked jester enthusiastically announced, bouncing around the street before jumping upon the stage. 

“DANCE!” He screamed while throwing something at the ground. A blinding flash was quickly replaced by a cloud of glittering pink smoke wafting from the wooden stage. It swirled in the shape of a tornado but lazily shifted at nearly a quarter of the speed. 

The holy man watched with mild curiosity, unimpressed by the theatricality. 

Emerging from the rosy mist with an energetic flourish was a man unlike the Minister of Justice had ever seen before in his life. He was lean, possessing the musculature of a soldier with tanned skin that seemed to glimmer in the sunlight off his exposed torso. His messy hair was a hue close to the one the minister was wearing, the curls bouncing with each entrancing move the man made along with his tiara of gold and rubies glittering in the sun. The dancer’s smile was an entity of its own, taking on a quality of seduction while also being blinding enough the judge felt the need to shield his eyes. The man - Ryan Bergara - wore a pair of red loose-fitting trousers that hypnotically swished with each step, a golden bangle around each wrist, and held a tambourine with an attached purple mesh sash that was adorned with golden astrology. The entertainer’s bare feet began to carry him in a choreography of lust as the surrounding crowd whistled and cheered. 

Realizing that his intrigue of the dancer had caused him to lean forward in his chair, Minister Madej leaned back and scolded himself for such behavior. He could not remove the awe from his eyes nor take them off the performance in front of him. 

“Look at that disgusting display,” he sneered towards his guard. 

“Yes, sir!” Phoebus replied with a little too much enthusiasm, lifting the face guard of his helmet up from his view. 

The judge would’ve reprimanded the boy for not using his proper title, but his attention was very much elsewhere and didn’t even notice. He was too entranced as he watched Bergara remove the purple sash from his tambourine and place the instrument on the stage in a low twirl that caused the crowd to erupt in cheers. 

Once the spin was complete, the dancer looked over his shoulder and met the stare of the minister. When eye contact was made, the magistrate felt a rush of ice wash over his body at the same time a roaring burn surged within his nerves; it caused him to involuntarily swallow. 

A devilish grin spread over the entertainer’s handsome features as he theatrically waved around his hand that the sash was in. In a feat of impressive agility, Bergara leaped from the stage over the crowd in a split and gracefully onto the segment of boardwalk that led right up to where the holy man was seated. 

Before Minister Madej could fully comprehend what was happening, the dancer quickly pranced towards the judge and gracefully vaulted onto his lap. The Minister of Justice was frozen, paralized with horror and bewilderment at the newfound heat burning just below his skin. In retaliation, the magistrate recoiled his torso to put distance between him and this enchanter, his hands splayed out in a style that mimicked self-defense on the armrests. 

With amusement in his eyes, the entertainer looped the sash that was held in both hands around the back of Minister Madej’s neck. It was surprisingly warm, perhaps after being held by Bergara caused that. He slowly pulled the holy man closer to his bare torso with a sultry quality to his eyes, which the minister could not look away from. He found himself gripping the armrests in a whiteknuckle grip, reluctant to be taken in by the dancer. 

Once Bergara deemed him close enough, the man met the judge halfway as he leaned in so closely that Minister Madej’s eyes nearly crossed as he tried to maintain the eye contact that had not broken since it was initiated. It was when the dancer lightly pressed those soft lips onto the very tip of his nose that the Minister of Justice found himself caving to the overwhelming feeling in his body. He felt a mix of desire and hesitation warring inside him while Bergara delicately slid his hand along the length of his jaw and stopped at his chin. 

Just when everything else in the world seemed to vanish, leaving only the minister and the dancer, Bergara pulled away, reached up and pushed the judge’s hat down to cover his face. As he recoiled, his hat slid up and away from his eyes and revealed that the entertainer had returned back to his stage. He even had the audacity to wink at the holy man, adding insult to the injury of his pride after making such a _fool_ out of the magistrate. 

At his anger, Minister Madej ripped the dancer’s sash that was still hanging around his neck off of him with a growl. 

Continuing to watch anyway, the holy man witnessed Bergara preening and flaunting his dance moves. The bright red trousers fluttered in the air as he performed a cartwheel and landed in the splits, throwing his head back and causing his curly hair to flutter in the air; a move that caused every man in the crowd to gasp at the impossibility of it. Using the distraction, the dancer grabbed a spear from one of the guards that was sentry near the stage and plunged it into the stage with a loud _thwack!_

In a move that should not have been feasible because of his weight, the entertainer kicked off the stage and swung around the spear with his leg hooked onto the rod, the other pointed in the air. His spinning was put to an end when his tailbone hit the stage, his momentum diminished. Bergara slid away from the weapon on his knees, keeping his hand gripped around the rod while leaning away from it with his other arm stretched toward the sky. With a final nod that aligned with the final note from the band, his routine was finished. Peasants threw coins onto the stage while cheering loudly, the dancer’s chest heaving and glistening with sweat from his exertion all while maintaining his pose. The smile on his face was blindingly bright as he registered the celebration of his dance. 

With a bow, Bergara stood up from his spot and dusted himself off, smiling at the jester that was on stage with him. Before the jester could continue on with the final part of the festival, the crowning of the King of Fools, a shout could be heard over all the others:

“ _ARREST HIM!!”_

The rowdy yells instantly hushed as every head in the vicinity snapped toward the source, their Minister of Justice standing tall and furiously pointing a ring-adorned finger at Ryan Bergara. There was a wrath in his eyes that had never been seen by any mortal. 

“Whatever for, Minister?” Phoebus questioned, turning on his horse to address the zealot. 

“ _INDECENCY!!”_ he roared, not daring to take his eyes off the criminal that was now frozen on the stage, his eyes as wide as dinner plates. When no one made a move to follow his orders, Minister Madej became more enraged. “Now, you incompetent swines!!” 

The jester sharing the stage with Bergara pushed the man and yelled: “Run, Ryan!” 

This kicked the dancer into motion, sprinting off the stage and into the crowd, the exact opposite of his graceful display moments earlier. The soldiers finally sprang into action to pursue the runaway that was scrambling through the obstacles of dumbfounded villagers. He didn’t get very far before he was caught, two guards dragging him by the arms towards the Minister. “Let me go!!” he cried fruitlessly, struggling against the grips of each guard. 

“Lock him in the basement of the cathedral until I retrieve him,” he commanded the soldiers, his gaze locked onto the fierce one of the entertainer. Minister Madej had to admit, he was impressed by his (foolish) lack of fear. 

“Yes, minister,” the sentries said in unison, yanking the dancer in the direction of Notre Dame. He protested and resisted the arrest, but Bergara was simply wasting his energy. He had to pay for the sins he committed. 

“Don’t you think that was a little unnecessary, minister?” Phoebus lifted the face guard up on his golden helmet. 

“It would be wise for you not to question me, boy,” the magistrate threatened, a darkness laced in his tone. “Take me away from this debauchery,” he commanded with disgust before slamming the door of his stagecoach shut.

+++

It was well into the evening when Minister Madej made his way into the basement of Notre Dame. The stuffy air and decrepit nature of the cellar casted a creepy ambiance, the weak light from the setting sun a sallow presence. Sparse torches were lit down the corridor, barely lighting the way. The devout judge continued on past empty cells until he reached the very last one in the hallway.

Leaning against the stone wall was the now disheveled dancer, his red trousers and skin stained with dried mud and dark hair was adorned with debris. He still was without a shirt, much to the magistrate’s behest. When he noticed the minister’s presence, Bergara turned his head and scoffed. 

“What an _honor_ it must be for me to be visited by the Minister of Justice himself, Shane Madej,” the entertainer jeered, sarcasm dripping from his words. His arms were crossed over his chest as he spoke. 

“Watch your tone with me, sinner,” the holy man growled, the grip on his lantern tightening. “I decide your fate, vagrant. It would be best for you to show me some respect.” 

This made the dancer scoff again, his head shaking and a look of disbelief on his face. “You had me arrested for ‘indecency’ and yet here I stand, still shirtless as I was hours ago.” 

With Bergara bringing attention to it, that foreign heat blazed in his blood again. The spot where his sash was hidden away under the minister’s robes was scalding in particular. He couldn’t stop the glance he stole at the exposed chest. 

Disgusted at his own impulse, the Minister of Justice faced away from the dancer as he thrust the white tunic he held at the prisoner, that heat burning predominantly on his cheeks. “Put this on, you’re to be moved to a different cell until I determine your punishment for your sins.” 

Instead of doing as he was told, the dancer threw the garment at the magistrate, hitting him in the face. “Go to hell! I did _nothing_ wrong, you pompous rat!” 

“Why, you -” The devout judge ripped the cloth from his head. He was met with a rage flourishing in the dark brown eyes of the dancer. Bergara’s hands were clenched tightly against the metal bars separating him from the zealot. “I should have you executed for that!” 

A bitter but satisfied smile curled the entertainer’s lips back. “Commandment 6: thou shall not kill, Minister.” He tilted his head to the side so that his forehead rested against the bars. 

“And to think I was going to offer you your freedom… How foolish of me.” Minister Madej stepped towards the cell, only a few feet away from the prisoner. A swell of petty pride rose in his chest as Bergara had to crane his neck to maintain eye contact. 

At the implication of his release, the dancer’s eyes began to swim with panic. 

“You would’ve been freed, contingent on you accepting my terms to work for me,” he implied. 

Revulsion contorted the face of the entertainer, his lip curling up into a sneer. “I’d rather rot in this cell for all eternity!” 

“ _Then rot,”_ the devout judge gritted through his teeth, reaching into the pocket of his robes. In the event that Ryan Bergara wouldn’t agree to his terms, Minister Madej brought a pair of shackles with him. He first clasped the tempered iron onto the sinner’s wrist, his gold bangle clattering as it was forced down Bergara’s arm. After that, he closed the other shackle around one of the bars of the cell, the click of the metal locking together in finality. 

After the magistrate stepped away from the cell, the dancer pointlessly tugged at his restraint. “You’re a rancorous man, Minister! Nothing but a sinful hypocrite!” 

“I am above sin, you Godless vagrant!” He placed a hand over the cross necklace that was resting on his chest. “Have a blessed night, Bergara. I shall pray to the Lord for you in the hope that He will bless you with His forgiveness and make you see sense.” 

With a flick of his robes, the zealot left the prisoner alone. The entertainer hurled insults at him down the hall, but he didn’t listen. The only thing he was thinking as his steps echoed off the grey stone walls was that the simmering of his blood after speaking with Ryan Bergara was the closest to committing a sin he’d ever been.

+++

_Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti_  
 _Beatae Mariae semper Virgini_  
 _Beato Michaeli archangelo_  
 _Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis_

The Minister of Justice recited in his head, kneeling on the wooden prayer bench in his office. Though his eyes were pinched shut, he could feel the gaze of the blessed Virgin Mary portrait he was praying in front of. 

“Beata Maria, you know I am a righteous man and of my virtue I am _justly_ proud,” he prayed with his head bowed, his eyes still closed to the dark room illuminated only by the light from his fireplace. 

“Beata Maria, you know I’m _so_ much purer than the common, vulgar, _weak, licentious_ crowd.” The anger that was overtaking the holy man was causing him to clench his fingers into fists rather than splayed in their praying position. 

Minister Madej slammed his fists onto the kneeler and suddenly stood to his feet, head still bowed to the portrait of Mary. “ _Then tell me, Maria_ why I see him dancing there; why his smoldering eyes still scorch my soul!” He now looked into her omniscient gaze, Mother Mary’s once kind eyes seeming to become judgmental for his sinful thoughts. 

“I feel him, I see him!” The magistrate’s desperation bled into his words as advanced towards the painting, the heat of the fire increasing as he got closer to the flames. Or so he blamed. 

“The sun caught in his raven hair is blazing in me, out of all control!” His yell echoed against the cold grey stone of the cathedral, an extra reminder of his sinful thoughts. The devout judge reached into his robes, pulling out Bergara’s glittering purple sash from where he stored near his heart; the spot that was the warmest on his body. 

“Like fire,” Minister Madej clenched the fabric in his hands as he caressed it against his cheek. The burning in his blood increased tenfold at the contact, the lust pulsing through his veins at the thought of the dancer. 

“Hellfire,” he opened his eyes to glimpse into the flames licking in his hearth, only to be faced with Ryan Bergara’s figure dancing in the blaze. His surprise was dulled only by the inferno of his lust. 

“This fire in my skin,” he proclaimed as he fell to his knees, gaze locked with the Bergara in the flames. 

“This burning desire...” Without thinking much, the minister reached out his hand to the open flames, the heat almost as unbearable as the one scorching is soul. But he needed to feel him, to touch him; the need was so powerful. 

“Is turning me to…” Just as his pale hand was about to brush the orange blaze, Minister Madej snapped back to his senses and drew back, clenching his hand against his heart. “Sin!” 

Bewildered and more than a little scared by his actions, the magistrate frantically scanned his skin to check for damages. It was during this distraught scouring that he once again spotted the purple and gold fabric in his left hand; a revelation striking him. 

“It’s not my fault!” The zealot cried, clasping the sash in both hands and snapping his head up to the portrait of the blessed Mother once more. 

_Mea culpa_

“I’m not to blame!” The devout judge rushed to stand directly under the painting, his lithe fingers brushing the ornate golden frame as his desperation leaked heavily into his words.

_Mea culpa_

The holy man gripped the sash in his right hand as he held it up towards the oil paint: the crucial piece of evidence to prove his innocence. “It is the gypsy boy - the _witch_ who sent this flame!”

 _Mea maxima culpa_

“It’s not my fault,” the zealot cried again, this time addressing the accusatory voice in his head. He turned his back from the Virgin Mary to be faced with a mass of faceless hooded figures in red robes. Even without eyes, Minister Madej felt every single one of those hundreds of judgemental gazes on him. 

_Mea culpa_

“If in God’s plan, He made the Devil so much stronger than a man!” The red hoods burst to flames as they swarmed him, enveloping him in the same lustful sin he’d been experiencing the entire day. The fire swirled around him, filtering out up the chimney of his fireplace.

_Mea maxima culpa_

“Protect me, Maria,” he pleaded in fear as he clenched the cross that hung from his neck. 

“Don’t let this siren cast his spell, don’t let his fire sear my flesh and bone!” The minister wrapped his arms around himself as he recoiled from the dancer’s figure still twirling in the flames. 

“Destroy Ryan Bergara!” The righteous fury he felt coiling in his gut was the only thing familiar to the magistrate, so he latched onto it and delved. 

“ _And let him taste the fires of Hell!!”_ His screaming cry of vengeance resonated off the office walls, strengthening his resolve; if only momentarily before the smoke from his fireplace began to take the very shape of the man he was lusting for. 

His fury dissipated and flooding to take its place was the crushing longing he felt for the entertainer’s warmth to once again grace his skin. Maybe if he’d let himself indulge in Bergara, this consuming greed would be quenched. 

“Or else let him be mine and mine alone,” the holy man lamented, reaching out and embracing the smoky silhouette that he so wished was the real thing; his arms cutting right through Bergara’s form and instead embracing himself, the magistrate pinching his eyes shut at the disappointment. 

“Minister Madej, Bergara has escaped,” a male voice informed from behind him. 

“ _What?!”_ The devout judge’s response hissed out of him as he spun to face the messenger. He came face to face with yet another faceless figure, the pawn backlit from the light pouring into his office. 

“He’s nowhere in the cathedral, he’s-” When he registered the crazed look in the minister’s eyes, the faceless guard very suddenly feared for his life. “Gone.” His voice wavered in panic. 

“But, how?? I-” _Chained him to the bars._ “Nevermind! Get _out_ you _idiot!”_ The zealot commanded, the sparkling purple fabric twisting in his hands as he processed this information. The door closing behind him and quick footsteps didn’t register in his revenge-filled mind. 

“I’ll find him,” the Minister of Justice promised as he gazed into the fire once again. “I’ll find him if I have to burn down all of _Paris!”_

“Hellfire, dark fire,” the devout judge continued, untangling the sash from his hands so that it only was gripped in his right hand. He watched momentarily as it swayed gently from the heat of the fire he dangled it in front of, hesitation making his hand shake. 

“ _Now gypsy, it’s your turn_.” Minister Madej hurled Bergara’s sash into the cleansing fire, watching it mimic the feeling in his blood; the burning only a preview of the promises he intended to fulfill. It was then that the holy man made the decision that he had to purge himself of his weak will; he needed to remain the pious and pure man that he was, through any means necessary. 

The Minister of Justice turned away from the blaze and tore out of his office, his black robes trailing behind him in an effort to keep up with his relentless pace. The magistrate’s steps were the only sound in the dark and empty cathedral hallway as he made his way towards the spiral staircase at the end. “Choose me, or your pyre.” 

“Be mine or you will burn!” He rapidly climbed the cobblestone steps to his destination, one of the many bell towers of Notre Dame. 

_Kyrie Eleison_

Once he reached the top, Minister Madej was treated to a landing that had three archways displaying a breathtaking view of the city. The night air was cool as a small breeze swept through the tower. The holy man walked under the massive brass bell and placed his hands on the stone railing once he reached the farthest archway. 

Instead of the thousands of residences and shops one would normally see, the minister could only see thousands of flames scorching his pupils; waves of fire crashing over the French city, Parisians screaming in terror and pleading with the Lord for forgiveness, repenting their sins far too late. Amid the biblical purge, Minister Madej could only think of one man. “God have mercy on him.” 

_Kyrie Eleison_

Not removing his gaze from the awe-striking premonition, the zealot’s fingers reached for the chord hanging around his neck and clenched around it. He yanked, the tie securing the necklace breaking and freeing it off his chest. He cradled the golden cross in his hands as he revered the religious icon one last time. “God have mercy on me.” 

_Kyrie Eleison_

“But he _will_ be mine,” the devout judge vowed. He closed his fist around the metal pendant so tightly each point of the cross carved pungent pain into his pale flesh. This strong feeling sweltering in his soul clamped his eyes shut as he shook. 

“Or he will **_BURN!_** _”_ The corrupt figure screamed out into the night, his open hands slamming down onto the stone railing. 

His plan now fleshed out, Minister Madej withdrew from the ledge with a flick of his robes; the festering lust fueling his motivation to execute his scheme. 

The golden symbol was left abandoned on that mantle, malformed from the fresh divots gouged by the stone and the soft reflection of moonlight slowly dimming from cloud cover.

**Author's Note:**

> Confiteor Deo Omnipotenti: I confess to God almighty  
> Beatae Mariae semper Virgini: To blessed Mary ever Virgin  
> Beato Michaeli archangelo: To the blessed archangel Michael  
> Sanctis apostolis omnibus sanctis: To the holy apostles, to all the saints  
> Mea culpa: Through my fault  
> Mea maxima culpa: Through my most grievous fault  
> Kyrie Eleison: Lord have mercy
> 
> +++
> 
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did writing this. Comments and kudos are _always_ appreciated! And if you're an artist and this inspires you, please send it my way on [tumblr](https://jackiidk.tumblr.com)


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